


Hey Google? What's an Anton?

by PhakeFysics



Series: Fallen Hero - Abyss/Anton [4]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Disassociation, Mental Health Issues, Other, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 03:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhakeFysics/pseuds/PhakeFysics
Summary: My MC, Anton (Sidestep), having a rough time.





	Hey Google? What's an Anton?

You shift your long legs uncomfortably in the tub, the porcelain hard against your body. You lift the cigarette to your lips between blood coated fingers. You idly wonder what the tub would feel like with hot water and soapy bubbles in it. All it possessed now was your thin frame in ragged sweats and an old, torn shirt. 

The only hint of liquid being red and smeared thinly against the stark white walls. You hold the cigarette in your lips and draw a macabre smiley face with your bloody finger. 

You didn’t feel that great after last night’s bridge escapade. Not that you felt guilt… but that you let yourself slip that hard into the madness. A tempting mistress; Madness. Sometimes you wanted to stay there. She offered a sense of freedom you could only pretend you could achieve in your brief moments in Abyss’ body. 

Abyss let you be free some nights. It let you pretend you were powerful, in control of yourself. But right now… you were Anton. 

Not Abyss, powerful agent of pure, unbridled anarchy.

Not Sidestep, Ex-vigilante hero, friend of the Rangers, being cared about; the man who is getting his act together and reconnecting with friends.

Not Lazarus, the handsome puppet that could coerce and woo with a flash of pearly whites that had a body to die for.

No… right now, you were, what you think was Anton… the sad, broken husk of something pretending it once believed itself human.

You look down at your slashed wrists, still raw and red, scraped fresh after you came out from your blackout. 

You were alone. You always would be. You resigned yourself to this. You didn’t want to pretend you were manipulating anyone right now. You didn’t want to pretend you were really Abyss, the Master Architect of Los Diablos.

Abyss was a genius. A maniacal hyena enjoying their job. You were nothing. Something pretending to be them.

No… you were… just borrowing Abyss’ face sometimes, only by their sheer grace and mercy to your battered form. Abyss wasn’t so bad… they let you run around and pretend you were something important. You didn’t really understand it… Abyss was nice; well spoken and calm. Sure, they were a bit mad, but everyone’s a little mad.  
You drag deeply in the chemicals and tar of your smoke, letting the cloud of cancer fill your lungs in a nice, grounding burn. Letting it out slowly through the mouth, you push some hair behind your ear, wondering what Abyss would be like to talk to… 

The sudden shrill ring of your cell phone pulls you out of your tub-lounging forcing a choked cough out of your lungs.

Pulling it up, you mentally spin the wheel on who was calling you. Only 3 people had this number; Ricardo, Daniel, and your therapist’s office.

Picking it up, your face doesn’t twitch its expression, but you force a tired happiness to your voice, like you just woken up from dozing off and were still contently sleepy.

“Helloooo?” you mutter, flicking the ash of your cigarette into your lap, not caring.

“Hey, Anton, just wanted to see how you were doing?” Daniel’s voice flitted cheerily through the line.

“Oh, hey Daniel. Yeah, I’m doin’ pretty good. I’m just finishing up taking a bath,” You bite your lip, trying not to bring up downtown. 

You heard the bubbly chuckle of pure wholesomeness and sunlight on the other end, sending your heart lower into your stomach. 

“Ahh, taking a self care day?” He asks, and you want to pretend you hear the purr in his voice, but you’re sure you just misinterpreted. 

Glancing down at your wrists, the thin smears of red dropping down the drain, “Mm yeah, something like that…” you trail off.

Why was someone so bright wasting his time on something like you? You shouldn’t waste Herald’s time. He was a busy man with fans and friends and surely plenty of lovely, gorgeous women tripping over themselves just to be smiled at.

You slumped deeper into the tub, feeling yourself just… forget you exist. 

“Anton?” The concerned voice startles you back to the sad excuse of a bathroom you have. 

“Oh sorry, I dozed off a bit. Still sleepy,” you lie so smoothly, so contently. Who was talking? Was it Sidestep? Lazarus? Abyss? Who was talking to Daniel right now? That person seemed really interesting to be around. 

You wonder what Anton is… what’s an Anton, again? Not sure… maybe you’ll google it later. Then again… you’ll probably just forget. An Anton doesn’t seem worth much of anything.

The cheery tone pulls you back; a hand shoving itself into the ocean to grab your drowning form from the unending sea.

“Then how about some coffee? I haven’t talked to you in a while. We should catch up. I could use the distraction,” Daniel offered over the line.

You look down at the thing with the pants… the shirt - oh it’s your body. You have a body? Shame… it’s exactly 6 foot, 3 inches of wasted space. You feel sorry for the tub.

“Uhm…” you hesitate. Something tells you to go see Danny. Let him be amused with whatever Anton is for a few hours. Danny seems to enjoy Anton. Daniel is weird… nice, but weird. Like a cat playing with a dead lizard. Lizards are poisonous for cats…

“Sure… I just have to get myself presentable is all. Want to meet at the usual place?” You ask - the small restaurant that he liked. You always let him pick. He was Herald. He was a Ranger, a Hero. Someone to be respected, cared about, and liked.

“Sure!” He perks up in tone, sounding excited.

You just take a drag of your cigarette, resisting the strong urge to put it out on your leg. The tub would have to do. Sorry, tub.

“Great! See you in a few,” you hang up the phone, halfheartedly dropping it on the small throw rug in the bathroom with a dull thump.

Whatever an Anton is… it looks like you have to find it real fast to present it to Daniel. 

Looking down at your wrists - they’ve stopped bleeding, but are raw, caked over and throb with a sore sting. Oops… You’ll have to wrap them and wear long sleeves. They don’t like it when you hurt Anton. They seem to like Anton…whatever it is.

You heave yourself up from the tub with a sigh and avoid the mirror as usual, cleaning your wrists and grabbing the first aid kit to wrap them like you were used to doing. Old scars now layered with new ones. Like a really demented cake. You never were the baking type, though.

You supposed you didn’t have to be anything. Only pretend at being. Whatever you are, you are an excellent pretender.


End file.
